Unbreakable
by Mayflower
Summary: 16 year-old Anakin Skywalker reflects, and succumbs to those feelings that lay underneath the physical realm. Is he really unbreakable?


_Don't you ever make no mistake_

_I've got what it takes_

_And there's no way you'll ever get to me_

_Why can't you see that you'll never ever hurt me?_

_'Cause I won't let it be, see I'm too much for you..._

Unbreakable

Silence.

How he loved silence. He could think more clearly without any sounds to bother him.

In such a vast terrain as space, one would assume that there was little to no sound to bother him in the first place.

How wrong one would have been.

To brood was to think. It was a fair enough statement. Every whisper of a notion that fleeted through his mind was made for the general good of his cause. But somehow… somehow things always made a turn for the worst. Not in the way that he was by any means nasty or malicious. He could not help being a little moody. It was not his fault he was removed from his life. His mother.

A Jedi called Qui-Gon Jinn had whisked him away in a large silver ship, a Nubian aircraft. He was promised a life of a Jedi, so he could do his mother proud. But although he was warned to begin with, he would have thought that the chance would arise to go back and visit poor Shme. He had only been _told_ he was the Chosen one. He had no way of knowing if he really was, and neither, it seemed, did the Jedi Council. They refused him for he was apparently too old, and too emotional. He was therefore stuck in the middle of conflict he should not be associating with, with a roguish old Jedi, and not his mother. He met other people strange to him, and did things he was told he could not do. What was actually happening did not mean much at all to his unsatisfied spirit. He was so lost and _alone._

Qui-Gon Jinn did in the end pass away through this galactic conflict, and left his apprentice to take care of him. He already felt as though he was nothing but an object, passed back and forth from person to person as though he were a droid that always malfunctioned. He knew Obi-Wan did not take a liking to him, though they were bound like father and son. Why could he not stay with Padmé? She out of all the strangers he had grown to be fond of almost to a degree of utter possessiveness. But that was not the point, was it? He was never going to _see her again, was he? He was bound by the Jedi Code and his master who was envious of him. Every day, the poor boy was subjected to nags and complaints, eluding to some fact that he was not good enough for the gift he had been given. The gift to wield the force for justice and other such purposes. It was not in the words specifically that Obi-Wan tore down his self-esteem, no. Without any context they meant nothing – even he knew that. But Anakin liked to think that he had a power unlike his master. The ability to know what others were thinking. He could not mind-read as of yet, but the intuition he owned was at times overwhelming. What he could pick from people's words told him a great deal about their personas and intentions in life. Obi-Wan's was most certainly to pick on him and make him suffer. And these snide comments seemed to be a constant occurrence. So he was openly provoking Anakin, simply because the victim was intelligent enough to read between the lines. His master was jealous, loathing of the talent that he possessed._

He had been told he was perfect. Why was he all of a sudden the runt bantha of the only herd that he had? Obi-Wan, who was his father. The force, which was his life. Or so he had been told. Magic was, after all, only magic when it was used properly. Obi-Wan was under the impression that he was incapable of using it properly, because of emotion, or some ridiculous reason of a similar nature. Humans could not forgive their emotions, for that was just what came naturally.

Yes, he did confess the silence was quite stimulating. It gave him a dark thrill that space gave the escaping smuggler. That space should have given _him, had he deigned to spare it any attention. An infinite confine to the billions and billions of stars and planets that graced its dark design was revealed before his very eyes, and it went unnoticed, filtered out of the rest of the scenery by a pair of two glazed, buttery brown eyes. They were, he guessed, half-way to the Bimmisaari system. Half-way through a break from the pointless assignments that he and his master had been given by the Jedi Council. He was capable of more than this, surely. Even the Jedi Council knew that. Were they just stalling him? Feeding him petty arguments so that he may not be of use? They were definitely hiding something from him that he ought to know. The fools were too arrogant and old and stuck in their ideals. The galaxy was moving on from the old ways. Couldn't they see? __He was the one that single-handedly saved Naboo from the clutches of the Trade Federation. They did not spare him a second glance after all of that, he felt, except for the kind man Palpatine. He couldn't trust anyone but himself. He had to care for everyone else, because they were in all ways dependent on him. On his talent. They were just ignorant, like Obi-Wan, and pretended that they could look after themselves. And so he played along with their game, but it was growing to become something difficult to do._

Standing here, leaning against the durasteel panelling made Anakin restless. Behind him somewhere he supposed that there really were sounds echoing from deep within the walls of their spacecraft – the life support system droning, the occasional clunk and clink of droids going about their business – he'd simply tuned out of it all. He was good like that sometimes.

For the umpteenth time a faint beep and hum reached his ears, but this time, were not dismissed by selective hearing. It was his training droid. There to enhance his skills, apparently. It had been hovering about his back in stand-by mode, ever since Obi-Wan had disappeared. For hours? He didn't care. He didn't have anything to do, technically.

With a slight yawn, he turned so as to switch the thing off entirely. If only he were brave enough to go and turn off the life support, as well. 'Twas a pity that his master did not have his power, really. Then he might have complete silence in which to brood.

The darkness he thought existed in the small room had been ruined by a single shaft shining through the door he thought he had closed long ago. In said doorway now stood the silhouetted figure of another.

"Anakin. Tell me, what is the matter?" Obi-Wan Kenobi swept across the metallic floor, concern etching his ruggedly handsome features. He had been observing his Padawan with his arms loosely folded, for how long Anakin was curious to know.

There was a pause in which he gathered his wit, mentally preparing himself for some unwelcome investigating.

"Isn't it obvious? Surely one with the ability to probe minds could pick up the troubled thoughts swirling around another's mind, master." Anakin seemed oblivious to his master's movement as he answered tonelessly, turning away.

"You have spent the last three standard hours pacing back and forth the Training Room, muttering away to yourself," Obi-Wan pointed out, sounding, if anything, mildly uneasy. Things would not have been safe had Anakin not been there to help him live his life.

"I don't need you to work your way around the question, master," said Anakin in a strange way, mocking the emotional power in his own voice by remaining determinedly sober. "It is not becoming of a Jedi."

"Neither is arrogance, young Padawan." The elder Jedi emphasised heavily the boy's age. Anakin thought that it had always been a struggle for Obi-Wan to keep a level of obedience in him.

"What would you like me to say, then? That everything's fine?" He glanced back over his shoulder, staring at his master with no small amounts of tension. The thin, cold air was all of a sudden dense, and sultry. "There, I've said it to you."

Obi-Wan did not seem perturbed in any way, shape, or form, and how consternating it was for young Anakin.

"You don't mean it. It wouldn't take even the most simplest of life-forms long to understand that you are lying."

"Am I so weak in my power that you can see right through me? Is that it?"

"No… not at all, Anakin, but –"

"But _what? All you ever have to say to me has a 'but' on the end of it!" the boy's voice began to rise with every word, and as he turned he took an aggressive step forward. A flash of warning-fire in his master's eyes, however, made him realise that he'd stepped over the line this time._

"Will you give me a chance to speak?!" snarled Obi-Wan, and it was a command. The power of a Master had finally surfaced in him, and finally, he was in control. Or so he thought.

Anakin eventually nodded, and bowed his head. Give him a chance to give his side of the story, no matter how wrong it may be. He was not going to lose his temper to someone who was not worth the effort. Besides, it would be wise to make Obi-Wan feel as though he was doing the right thing.

"You must learn to control the conflict within you. Your emotions can seize control of your natural instincts quicker than you think."

Anakin had heard it all before, so he murmured listlessly, "Yes, yes, I know."

"You were too old to be trained, do you remember that? Your emotions towards your mother – fear, longing – they all can be dangerous and lead to the dark side if they are not handled properly by the individual. That is why, I know, you are struggling now. I can't help you, no matter how hard I try, because you refuse me."

Again, "Yes, yes. I know."

Obi-Wan gave him a pointed look. "You don't know, and that is the problem."

Did he know? Of course he did. Why shouldn't he? He had been learning all this time, had he not? That much should have made his Master happy. But either way, he had to make _some acknowledgement of his saying something, yes? Obi-Wan always complained when he was younger, about him not even bothering to respond to things he'd say and do. And now that he did so, he was complaining again._

"The opposite, I think. You know what's _really_ the matter, Master. I can tell."

Obi-Wan sighed, and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Patience seemed to be a virtue he had, "How?"

"The look in your eyes when you tell me that I can't do this, or can't do that. The 'friendly' smile on your face when I fail, and tell me that I can do it again when I am better trained…"

These types of arguments were commonplace. The subject of Anakin being able to take the trials at the tender age of sixteen was without doubt a touchy one, and so every time it was raised by the boy himself, Obi-Wan immediately took an adult's stance – he's only a child, ignore him for now because it's a phase. This in turn made Anakin cranky. All they ever seemed to do was argue, now. Anakin just couldn't see why Obi-Wan couldn't just give up and give up now to him. Allow him to be a Jedi here, now. His master being envious meant that his reason was established enough to become a habitual argument. Keep it up until he snaps, sort of thing.

"The point is that you _will be better trained, if only you were patient…"_

"So that's it. I'm not patient enough? What will it be tomorrow, I wonder? My eyes aren't the right shade of brown? Your excuses make me sick… the Jedi Council can't possibly buy what you tell them." Anakin's eyes glittered as he glanced up and met his Master's gaze.

"I tell them the truth," Obi-Wan informed him diplomatically. As if the boy was completely blind to his way of thinking. It was sad that it was not true, for the Master, here. He looked so calm, so sure of himself.

"That I'm nothing but a pointless prophecy? If anything it's _you_ who is unable to do your job. Your lies and insults are doing nothing to me. Nothing at all," the Padawan sniffed, folding his arms in mimicry of Kenobi.

Obi-Wan sighed and placed his index finger and his thumb lightly on the bridge of his nose, obstructing his eyes from sight. This incensed Anakin all the more. It wasn't all that hard of a process, listening to the needs of your supposed dependant.

"Anakin. If you want to believe that you are all powerful and that you are already able to live up to your potential, then you have already failed." He muttered, the words having to leave two barely parted lips.

"What was the purpose of bothering to train me, then?" Anakin cried, throwing his hands up dramatically. "I have nothing but myself to learn from because of your attitude!"

"And it's not enough, is it? _My_ attitude, if anything, has been for the good of our relationship. If you'd just let me –" Obi-Wan hovered around him as the training droid once had, implying that he wasn't good enough. How _dare _he.

"Let you what? Put me down so that you can still be the best? You just can't handle me being better than you!" This was not the first time he'd made such a complaint. Subtleties were not required when one wanted a quick change.

"You? You are not 'better' than me nor are you weaker. You have put yourself at a disadvantage by treating your training as if it were a game. I've had enough of you criticizing me, Anakin. It is not your place to. Now, if you would be so kind as to calm down and follow me, then maybe we can manoeuvre the ship towards an easier route past Osarian, so that we can make the jump into hyperspace." Pivoting around, he stalked towards the doorway, fists clenched at his sides. This was hardly a good sign, but Anakin didn't care.

"No-!"

How many last straws might there have been in the past while? For his Master, this was definitely the last straw. Obi-Wan turned back on his heel, scowled and barked, "Anakin!"

This was the part where he would normally cave in. Where he would bow his head, and apologize like a child, follow his orders like a child. He wasn't a child, anymore. He wasn't the naïve little boy back on Tatooine with the sandy blond hair and the large, inquisitive eyes. He was sixteen, now. His hair was darker, his air not so innocent. Of course he had been subject to many things a child would not have been as he'd grown: death, destruction, corruption and attempted genocide. Yet it was as though some other evil had seized him. He was adept in the ways of the force, more in tune with it than his master. Obi-Wan did not understand, and could never. He was too vulnerable and ignorant. 

He may as well demonstrate just what he'd learnt himself. Achieved through intuition. It was amazing what he had accomplished at his age, and it made him frustrated to even wonder how he could make Obi-Wan see just how much more he was yet to undertake. 

Insecurity was for the weak.

Anakin Skywalker was not weak. 

A _snap-hiss filled the near silence of the room, and Anakin felt even more at ease. He raised his sapphire blade, a vaguely wicked smile darkening his youthful, beautiful face as slowly he approached the other._

"What are you doing?" Obi-Wan asked carefully, his eyes flickering here and there, searching for the training droid. How foolish he was to deny Anakin his full attention – the movement was so quick. In a vague blur the blade sought what was hidden behind the simple cream robes of the target, jabbing brusquely at the chest. But a fully trained Jedi Knight was naturally quick in his reflexes, and so his attack was easily blocked by Obi-Wan. Nevertheless, a stunned, aghast Obi-Wan.

"I am about to fail you, Master," Anakin replied, drawn up in confidence, a challenge embedded in his tone.

There was a time in which Master shared a moment's deliberation with Apprentice. They scrutinized the other beneath the whining electricity. Anakin sensed much concern coming from Obi-Wan. The man was searching intensely for something, anything that would give explanation for the way he was acting.

They took a step back, and the tenseness dissipated.

A smile spread slowly across the young boy's face, as the blade wavered in the air idly. "Master Qui-Gon would have been proud to see you, now," he said, blasé. He could easily read the look in Obi-Wan's eye. The look said, 'What does the late Jinn have to do with any of this?'

He had touched a nerve. He had the advantage, now.

"Struggling to contain me, and I'm nowhere near the trials. I read that he wasn't popular with the other Jedi Knights… because he was a rebel." A pause filled the air, as Anakin seemed to think on this. His master waited patiently. "Was it because he was falling to the dark side? Or was it because he was just too powerful?"

Obi-Wan's mouth fell open in a mute gasp at the capability and sheer agility his apprentice showed as he leapt forward and swung relentlessly. He sidestepped, barely eluding the attack, and raised his blade defensively, his feet planting upon the floor in line with his shoulders.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Master Jinn was not in danger of falling to the dark side…" he said dismissively. He was determined to teach Anakin a lesson, here. "… He did not abide by the _rules."_

"If you don't abide by the rules, you must be falling to the dark side." The logic had been applied so generally, Anakin _must have known he was only wielding those words to support himself. Just as he wielded that lightsaber so fiercely. A brusque swing saw another string of words escape his mouth, in a slur of concentrating grunts, "A Jedi can't _love_, a Jedi can't _fight_… A Jedi can't be who he _really is_, and use the __skill he has…"_

Obi-wan didn't reply. He wasn't certain how to respond to that. No doubt, the emotion was taking over Anakin's youthful heart, and twisting him, manipulating him. He tried to parry, and attack in a way that would distract the boy, but Anakin set the pace of the duel, and Anakin kept on talking.

"You are _not_ a human, you're a Jedi. A _thing_," he spat.

What was he trying to do? Was he trying to insult him? Evoke an aggressive reaction? There must have been some sort of purpose, or Anakin may have just been venting his anger. The latter Obi-Wan prayed was not the case, for it was no less than deadly an action. In that, he thought he had an idea. Everyone did have their faults after all…

Good, Anakin may have been. Experienced, he most certainly was not.

The more Obi-Wan experimented with more advanced attacks and defences, the more he found himself winning in subtle ways against the opposition. Anakin was the one retreating with every belated swing. At the same time as all of this, he knew it was unfair of him to use his advantage as a Master. With one hefty thrust, Anakin was cast tottering to the corner of the room, and far enough away so that Obi-Wan could execute his short performance. With an athletic grunt, he cart-wheeled to the left, on only one spare palm of the hand, once, twice, and then hurled himself over an invisible barrier, lightsaber oscillating elaborately around his solid form.

His display did induce the right reaction; Anakin's sapphire face twisted into a gasp, animated and genuine. Obi-Wan seized that moment, and lunged forward, miming to attack him on the side, then moved on around in a swift circle, making other such attacks.

Anakin lost his balance, and clattered ungracefully to the floor. On his way down, Obi-Wan nudged the boy's body with his foot, so that he landed on his back, and that said foot could land firmly on his chest. 

Obi-Wan caught his breath while Anakin writhed on the floor beneath his master's blade. He needed to say something, and say something now, or else Ani would rile up to the point of destructiveness. He would yield to the dark side that was all around them both. Obi-Wan believed that the dark side was drawn to these duels, and waited with bated breath to infuse itself into any one of the participants. The danger was tenfold.

"Anakin—"

"Obi-Wan…" Anakin looked up at his master pleadingly, chest heaving with every breath he took. Cold sweat was trickling across his face, and the taste of salt made his setback even bitterer. The eyes were transfixed on Obi-Wan's face, whose expression revealed his fading in and out of thought. Was that a pang of guilt Anakin had caught written somewhere on his face?

"Yes…?" The elder responded slowly, looking down at the boy with a casual patience. He did not seem victorious or proud by his win – something that Anakin could not understand. 

"This isn't a fair fight…" he replied in a small, childish voice. A whine. His wrinkled brow expressed a deep burden placed on his little soul, that he might be crushed psychologically by such a sudden defeat.

It seemed for aeons Obi-Wan closely studied him, daring him to make a move that would give his game up. Clever of him to wonder if this was really his true state in defeat. If he had really noticed, however, he would have called upon times long gone. "The fight is over," he declared, taking a hesitant step back, saber he held so close to his opponent's throat was drawn back, so that it hovered a few inches above his chest.

The hum of the blades was mesmerising. For Obi-Wan it might have meant something of an understanding. The eye of the storm, or better, a resolution.

"Not… really…" Anakin barely trailed off when he forced his master's weapon off and away in a sweeping motion without as much effort as he thought initially he would need, leaping to his feet and landing securely on the ground. Back and back he drove Kenobi with that excess energy he had not yet spent. Somehow… somehow he felt immortal… that the Jedi before him was nothing… 

And what came as even more of a pleasant surprise was that Obi-Wan was _letting_ himself be defeated! Easier, in the very least. This shouldn't be too much of a task for him.

They locked blades, and Anakin didn't look like he was trying any more. Rather, he looked detached and thoughtful. Obi-Wan stared tensely, wondering just why he wasn't able to lean forward any more and force the boy away.

"It _is fair, in a way, maybe. You were weak enough to accept me, weren't you?" A spitting noise soon joined the electrical buzz of the joined lightsabers, and Anakin knew he had paused for too long. The attacks began again._

It was as if a star had been brought on board the Jedi transport, bringing with it its terrible secrets and beguiled beauty. If it could be told what happens, all those zillions of parsecs away in those distant winks of light, nothing could have spoken like the drum of sapphire currents being thrown at each other.

Master and Apprentice moved about the room, shadows dancing where no shadows should be cast. A star of shadows and light – what was this? It was, however, plausible. Without light, there would be no shadow, and without shadow, there could be no light cast.

"Nobody can look you in the eye and deny you, Ani," Obi-Wan panted, between the thunderous 'kssh' of the colliding blades, "Honestly. You have the charm of a swindler."

They paused fleetingly. His master was attempting some sort of compromise, he could tell. He was trying to reconnect with the child, and at the same time impress him with language that was very formal, and deliberate. Chest heaving, Anakin raised his chin defiantly.

"Then a swindler I am," he said. And just as he thought that this small stand-off had ended, his master insisted on having the last word.

"A swindler you will truly be when you are old enough to be chastened."

Every muscle in Anakin's face seized up, stuck in the premature portrait of eternal torment. Oh, the hate was flowing through him now.

He was not old enough for this? He was old enough to be dragged through the bowels of a hundred _Hells, yet he was not old enough to be aware or feel or know that it had happened?_

If Obi-Wan had an inability to take him seriously, as a _human_, then things would have to change around here. There _had to be a way for him to prove to his master that he wasn't taking things as if they were all in the name of good fun, that he was taking his training seriously. So seriously, in fact, that he would give his all in return for nothing if it was required of him. He would effectively lose his life, and gain that of the Jedi Knight. In that train of thought, Anakin slammed on the brakes._

Death was a punishment.

Anakin would lose everything, and so would Obi-Wan, in one foul strike if things were to go amiss for the boy from Tatooine. The realm of a Jedi would be forgiven to some other prophecy, who would no doubt have a better shot at the destiny foretold for him. If fortune swung the other way, and Obi-Wan lost the duel, Anakin would no longer be plagued with his inconsiderate training. His spirits soared, and his attention converged.

Obi-Wan sidestepped a series of fluid movements unleashed by his apprentice, weaving in and out of the thick steel supports as a bird riding on an updraft would do his thermals. Anakin followed his lead with similar ease and more enthusiasm. The youth felt weightless, as though he wasn't even standing on the ground anymore. He just had to guide himself through, and react.

Just like back home…

With that slip of consciousness, he was forced to play the defensive. No matter how Obi-Wan tried, though, his attacks were persistently blocked by Anakin. Soon, these attacks were becoming notably fewer and farther in-between.

The master couldn't have already started to tire! The duel had barely started! But whatever this rush, this power that surged through Anakin's veins actually was, he somehow couldn't put it down to merely being youthful effervescence. It was far more overwhelming than that. The mere concept of mortality was rendered impossible.

It raised his lightsaber for him and made it move in hypnotic circles. When he twirled, his hands only had to flinch and the lightsaber would make such beautiful patterns he felt as though it was hovering around him, dancing. Obi-Wan appeared to be transfixed with his skill, as well, only subtly rearing up a safe distance. 

He flipped forward, landing in a near squat. It was unconscious that he took to the ancient teräs käsi wide fighting style known as the Riding Bantha like an aqualish to water, striking at angles left, and then right, footsteps falling in sync. Obi-Wan took steps back in a dance of another kind altogether – the dance of master and apprentice – watching him closely the entire time, lightsaber raised warily.

With a broad grin, Anakin flipped backward, gathering the force around him to manipulate the gravity he required to do such a feat. It was like one big cushion that could be used whenever he felt like it. Obi-Wan would have told him this was the wrong attitude, and that the force was there as a guide, not a tool. But Obi-Wan was enthralled by what he was doing now. He couldn't bear to take his eyes off of the boy. So little Ani pirouetted around, whirling the lightsaber in elaborate motions, before throwing it up in the air and catching it backwards so that it pointed downwards when he held it, instead of upright, stabbing with it in a way the Jedi Master Adi Gallia was renowned for.

A loud hiss of steam ensured the ventilation system cracked and broke open. Master lunged for the network of pipes, but apprentice caught him half-way there.

"No… _Anakin, don't!" he cried, desperately trying to get himself out of the way in time. But the boy performed a flawless roundhouse kick that winded Obi-Wan, and saw him crumple to the floor. He was unsteadied further by an ominous rumble of the spacecraft._

Anakin laughed as he danced back on his toes, ready for the surge of power his master suddenly experienced, poised and ready to defend. It was a game! A game that would have him punished by death if he made a mistake.

Was he in his own vagarious world?

It was entirely possible. But the idea didn't really have any relevance to what was going on now.

If anything it was his hands that were in the right world, guiding each strike and counter-strike with impossible accuracy. He didn't have to think, which was an asset. He had time, now, to carefully think out his intentions.

Would he kill Obi-Wan? It was certainly tempting. Only temptation lead to the dark side of the force…

But Obi-Wan didn't _care…_

_He didn't care…_

Anakin did not end up using whatever tactics he might have envisioned in his mind. The instinct was just so overwhelming it seized his heart and made it whole. Every ache, every pain caused by the intense physical activity was cowed by the sheer power of the force, and the sheer power that it gave him.

Anakin directed where exactly this fight was heading, out of the small training room, into the light. The eyes contracted and caused no obstacle in the duel: they did not waver from the other's face, not to guide themselves properly, and away from the droids that sometimes blocked the path. There was only so much room in this ship, and life was far more important than death. So rather than returning back to that training chamber, where the oxygen was being sucked out into the pipes to be expelled, they moved down the hallway, straight towards the heart of life in the middle of the vast, lifeless terrain of space.

_Go to the life, and you will die._

Obi-Wan must have at some stage fathomed the workings of Anakin's young, sixteen year old mind, for he attempted to stray out of the path towards doom laid out behind him. But Anakin was one step ahead, and withdrew abruptly, taking a step sideways at exactly the right moment, disappearing into a store room. 

Obi-Wan paused momentarily, before pursuing him, not eager to see the boy rioting around causing destruction wherever he turned.

Whirled around. Rather than his blade being primed to strike again, it was his foot that was raised and it was his foot that struck underneath Obi-Wan's chin, dragging him up off of the floor, before hurling him back into the wall.

Anakin ran towards the crumpled heap; this was his perfect chance to have his master pinned to the floor, just as it had been the other way around a while beforehand. 

But again, Obi-Wan was just too fast for him. He made a quick recovery and though stumbling, managed to evade Anakin's initial attack by the hairs on his chin. Scrambling about the durasteel floor, the Master searched frantically for his weapon, his only defence.

"No, _no…. come… here…" Anakin managed between each formidable swing, grunting as the other dodged and ducked. _He_ wasn't at a disadvantage at all, and yet here Obi-Wan was, avoiding him without even meaning to. _

It came as a rude shock when Obi-Wan disappeared after making to leap to his feet. He glanced about wildly, utterly baffled as to where the Jedi may have gone—

_Fwoosh. _

He was behind!

Obi-Wan whirled around, his mind reeling. The whole duel concept was getting out of hand. He was beginning to think that Anakin really wanted him dead. The look in his eyes frightened him as a master, for he understood the flare of hatred and malicious intent as uncharacteristic. The passion had gone beyond passion – it had become fanatical.

And how monotonous the sound of clashing lightsabers became! The aggression that flared was egged on with every lifeless buzz that filled the room. Obi-Wan was tiring, too obvious through the loose swings and sloppy returns. Anakin was only getting started.

The more he pressed on, the more unstable Obi-Wan's tread became, to the point where he was beginning to stumble and hesitate. The demonic glint to Anakin's eye left much to be desired for the sweat-sheened, flushed Jedi, and was putting him severely off his task at hand – which, by-the-bye, was looking as ambiguous as ever. He wasn't sure if he should try to reason with the boy, and talk him out of whatever it was that he was trying to achieve, or compete with his game, to prove his authority. It was becoming such a task in itself to keep utter control over Anakin. Utter control was needed to be able to get any sort of point across to him; explicitness was entirely unable to be achieved.

Would he-?

Obi-Wan fell flat on his back, and sprawled. His lightsaber flew out of his grip, and was immediately summoned by Anakin's spare, outstretched hand. Anakin mechanically stomped on his master's chest, and both lightsabers pointed squarely at his throat. 

"You wouldn't," Obi-Wan managed, chest heaving. Fear was not a Jedi's ally, though it struggled to be made known, hiding behind the thin mask of calm he wore.

Anakin seemed to consider this behind the large glassy eyes he possessed. 

"I wouldn't. But it doesn't mean to say that I can't," he said, and released the pressure. Obi-Wan rasped for air as though he'd spent most of the day exploring Mon Calamari without sufficient life-sustainers. 

Anakin took a few steps back, staring intently at the man he'd come to regard as a father of sorts. Eight years was a long time to be away from your homeland, specifically your mother. Obi-Wan didn't understand what he was thinking, experiencing. He never would. Obi-Wan would suffer, and Anakin would survive. With not an ounce of feeling, Anakin asserted the truth and nothing but in a way that made Kenobi shiver.

"You are defeated, master."

***

_I'm unbreakable._

There we have it, kids. A fanfic based on a Michael Jackson song. Or at least conceived by one. I'd like to thank all the people that helped me with this – it was a struggle in the very least, and I'm glad I could at least share it with one or two pairs of your ogling eyes. XP


End file.
